


Warrior in the Wind

by CertifiedArchdruid



Series: Orctober 2020 Prompt Fics [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hanging Out, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedArchdruid/pseuds/CertifiedArchdruid
Summary: Throk is an orc who strives to become a warrior worthy of holding his father’s axes someday, but as a grunt working on the Orgrimmar Skyway, there aren't always a lot of chances to prove your worth as a strong soldier of the Horde. When a vicious storm rocks the capital city and shuts the skyway down for a few days, Throk gets roped into weathering things out at an inn with his fellow warrior friend, Hanatah Coalhoof, and gets provided with a job opportunity he couldn’t pass up.Created using the Orctober 2020 Creative Writing prompts days 1-5 by @/Shamanofthewild on Twitter,Aka'Magoshand may your pencils never dull!
Relationships: Orc(s)/Orc(s) (Warcraft), Orc(s)/Tauren (Warcraft)
Series: Orctober 2020 Prompt Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961248





	1. Hurry, Take Cover!

Throk wistfully gazed out over the skyway from his post near the edge of the zeppelin hangar, watching the sky closely as the goblin crew began the tedious process of preparing the massive airships for storage through the impending storm. While storms heavy enough to ground the zeppelin lines hardly ever made their way through Kalimdor, violent storms like this was a sure indication of the shift in seasons. There were always a few days each year that brought even the most bitter conflicts and the best hunts to a grinding halt. Orgrimmar was soon to be soaked to its core by sheets of heavy rain. Although it’s one of the better places to weather out a storm like this, there’s not much else that can be done but find a tavern with sturdy walls and a steady flow of good booze to ride out the weather, which is what he’d planned to do as soon as he was relieved of duty. He spent most of his working days as a guard in the skyways of the grand Horde capital, but the moment he was free from his job, he was training ferociously to become a mighty orc warrior, like his father before him. He dreamed of the day he could be one of the adventurers boarding the flying marvels to faraway lands and spending his days questing along the shores of distant lands, seeking thrill and adventure at every turn...

It takes a sharp stomp of the goblin captain’s boot against his own before he broke away from his thoughts, recoiling slightly from the sudden strike to his toes. 

“Ships all packed up tight, and since we’s be shut down through payday, we’re paying out a little early this week-” The captain said, his face adorned with it’s usual snide grin. “-but don’t be shocked by the weight, pay’s being cut for the storm closures, ya’know. Now vacate pronto, that slop’s gonna start dumping here shortly and I wouldn’t wanna be the one to drown in it myself.” 

He thrust a small pouch into Throk’s palm before promptly heading out, a small burlap pouch containing a meager share of gold and silver coins. It was barely enough to stay anywhere in town for longer than a few days, but at least he’d been paid for what he worked without having to shake the greasy little man down for it this time, and he found himself grateful that he too could make haste for a warm place to settle in before it got rough outside. With his share of pay and his handaxes in tow, he set off for one of his usual spots.

***

The Broken Tusk is packed on a night like tonight, filled with all sorts taking refuge from the downpour. It's a favorite hangout for many orcs like himself, but he instead finds himself drawn to the friendly waving of a furred arm and the raucous shouts of a fellow warrior he’s come to know well throughout his training, Hanatah Coalhoof.

“Throk! I was about to go and see if you were still stuck doing pre-storm work, come sit down and I’ll buy you an ale!” The tauren said cheerfully.

“I’d like that, but I still need to make sleeping arrangements before getting too hammered, been a little strapped for gold since replacing the pauldrons so had to wait ‘till the boss paid up to get a bed somewhere.” Throk admitted as he seated himself onto the bench across from his companion. 

Hanatah’s brow furrowed in concern. “You can’t be serious, I know you usually like to camp out and hunt in the city’s outskirts or just shack up at the barracks, but if you didn’t already make arrangements for a room, you’re likely out of luck by now. I’d imagine there’s probably lots of extra people here in the city to seek shelter.”

“Well how else am I supposed to afford a new weapon or an armor repair these days? That damn fleet captain pays next to nothing and treats all us peons like dirt, walks all over us and expects us not to make any fuss!” Throk grumbled as he set down his trusty axes beside him. “I’m just waiting for the day someone chucks that bastard over during a mutiny, I’d a done it myself already if I was a shipworker ya know. Expects all us grunts to just show up ready to do more WORK the moment things clear up, and he’s been cutting hours and stiffing pay left and right. One of these days I’m gonna catch my break, Hanatah, but it sure doesn’t feel like any day soon.” 

The tauren had begun to nervously fidget with one of his braids as he listened to the rant, sympathetic of his plight, but worried his friend was simply too prideful to directly admit he was having a hard time and could use some help. He took the last few sips of his mug before clearing his throat to speak. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing a room with me and my friend? It could help with saving a little coin too.” 

Throk’s cheeks flushed over at the mere suggestion of being in such a situation. He’d known Hanatah for a while now, long enough to know the tauren made his living in the manner that he could only eventually strive for. Brave Coalhoof, as he was known by many in Mulgore, made a living off of being a strong warrior for hire, going on quests and slaying bad guys in dungeons when he wasn’t on the plains of his homeland defending Thunder Bluff. Throk had a huge amount of respect and admiration for him, and over time Hanatah had taught him much about how to fight and defend, but he’d hardly spent time with him outside of combat, training, and the occasional evenings of post-battle drinking in taverns, and he’d never spent the night in the same quarters as him. Still, he had always felt that him and the tauren shared much in common beyond their warrior spirits. Throk was at least intrigued by the idea of sharing a room, if not a bit intimidated.

“Won’t you need to ask your friend first? I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

“Nonsense, we’d be honored to have you with us!” Hanatah exclaimed with a slam of his now-empty stine to the table beneath it. “Besides, I’m willing to bet he’s going to spend most of the night watching the storm. He’s a bit obsessed with storm watching, that one, something about listening to the call of the elements...”

***

The duo eventually walked upstairs to a simple wooden door, and Hanatah slowly pushed it open. On entering, they were greeted by the pleasant wave of warmth from a well lit hearth. The scent of burning incense mingled with a rumbling pot full of stewing plainstrider meat. The room held basic furnishings, a few wooden chairs around a small wooden table, two beds, and a few chests and places to stow extra gear, but in the middle of the room, sitting on the floor near one of the beds, was another tauren, not entirely dissimilar to his friend. Instead of armor, he was wearing little more than a hide loincloth and some jewelry which adorned his wrists and long braids that hung from the side of his mane. The bull was meticulously sewing a tear in the sleeve of a large oilskin robe, somewhat disgruntled and quietly swearing in a language Throk had only ever heard Hanatah use briefly in passing with his own kind. He seemed completely engrossed in his task and didn’t even bother to greet them on their entry.

“Annetto, you’d better not be planning to go out in this weather, shaman or not, I think it’s safer if you watch from inside.” Hanatah said to his companion working on the floor. “Besides, I got someone I want you to meet!”

Hanatah grabbed Throk by his arm and pulled him forward through the doorway, and the orc’s sudden stumbling into the room caused Annetto to look up from his work, blowing a huff of protest at being stopped. “For your information, Coalhoof, I'm not going anywhere tonight, I was planning to wait for tomorrow when the eye comes through before wandering out into the storm for a spell. I won’t spend all evening out there, but I refuse to let this opportunity pass me by when it’s only so often we get a storm this large rolling through.” 

“Promise you’ll at least take cover when you’re out there, I know you’d stand in the rain and let the storms blow you away into the wilds for us to never see again.” Hanatah said with a chuckle. 

“If that's what the elements will, _Theia-shoush ahmen._ ” The shaman said to his friend with a playful shrug. Annetto then turned his gaze to the orc before him, a look of intense thought washed over him. 

“Ah yes, you must be Throk, the sky-warrior.” he spoke after a long pause. “I’ve seen you many times, when I’m passing through the city on my duties with The Earthen Ring and… otherwise. Hanatah speaks very highly of you and your progress and strength as a warrior.”

“Hanatah, just what are you telling people about me?” Throk said, unable to hide the grin curling around his tusks. “I hope you aren’t setting the bar too--”

“But-” Annetto interjects, his tone was still warm, but more serious than before. “-there’s something to be said about how hard you work when you’re out on the skyway. You never let a task go unfinished and you’re always willing to help others, be it by helping them lift freight or going after thieves and foes alike who try and harm the other working peons, and that’s a true act of strength, maybe even the more important one if you ask me.”

Throk’s grin went from beaming to flustered in moments, he had only just met Annetto, but it was clear the tauren was a bull of independence, feared little, and spoke his mind. He likely commanded a great deal of respect to be part of the Ring, but he simply mirrored that very same degree of respect to strangers and friends alike, even when simply jesting with his friend. Something about him radiated a serene and stoic aura, as if the storm outside to him was merely an event to behold, like a meteor shower or eclipse. As much as Throk wanted to thank him and was flattered by Hanatah’s boasting to him as a warrior, he found himself stammering to find the right words to express how it touched him to hear his regular hard work go noticed and praised for once, especially after spending so much time fretting over it earlier. 

“Make yourself comfortable, consider our quarters yours as well.” Said Hanatah, giving Throk a solid pat on the back. “That stew should be ready really soon, and I know we’ve got a fresh batch of cornmeal biscuits and a cask from the inn that will be perfect with a hot bowl once it’s ready. We’ll keep the ale flowing and stay dry and merry throughout the storm!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aka'Magosh_ = "A blessing on you and yours" in Orcish
> 
> _Theia-shoush ahmen._ = "so it will be" in Taur-ahe
> 
> Both translations (along with all the primer I use) taken from their respective language primer articles on Wowpedia
> 
> WHOA, how long has it been since I wrote fiction? Too long. Oh goodness far too long. I haven't written anything this long since one of my final college papers on how to make cosplay crafting a more environmentally friendly hobby/industry back near the start of the pandemic. With a lack of cons this year, I've found myself in a bit of a creative slump but something about the idea of Orctober set my furry little brain off and I had a crazy dream about a storm in Orgrimmar that I wouldn't say this is based on, but is influenced by for sure.


	2. I Follow a TRUE Orc!

_“Surely all this couldn’t have been cheap?” Throk thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair near the fire and took a bite of the warmed, cheese-filled biscuit. “I know Hanatah’s always been the kind of fellow who won’t stand to let a person go hungry, and would rip the tabard from his back if it meant someone’s suffering could be eased. I just hope he’s not going out on a limb or putting himself in a tight spot by having me here.”_

_The gentle sounds of Hanatah setting clay dishes and cups on the table and the infrequent pops from the fire before him was drowned out by the echoing crackle and deep booms of thunder from the churning storm outside. He turned to watch Annetto, who was now staring intently out the window, the tear in the oilskin coat in his lap still not quite fixed and the needle haphazardly pinned near the sleeve to hold it momentarily. Despite only sitting a few feet away, the look on his face suggested that he was far elsewhere deep in thought. His ears twitched occasionally, as if he was listening for something more in the chaotic sounds of the raging typhoon._

“Who’s ready for dinner? I know I’m starving!” Hanatah exclaimed after stirring the contents of the soup kettle sitting over the small fireplace. 

Never one to turn his warrior friend down on a warm meal, Throk took his chair over to the table, sat down at one of the steaming bowls of soup, and eagerly began to dig in. Just the smell of it brewing when he walked in was enough to make his stomach growl, but the satisfaction it brought to finally taste it was something to behold, and it made for a cozy meal. He had to admit, as an orc who was not interested in the pursuit of fancy feasts and food, he would rarely do more than warm a piece of meat over the fire and eat it mostly raw, but Hanatah had gotten him to come around on the idea of cooked meat, even if his preference was still a nice bloody piece of prey over a bowl of boiled leg and stewed vegetables. He felt fur brush against his arm as Hanatah sat close enough to lean in and start whispering.

“Annetto’s probably gonna let his food get cold if I serve it now, think I should try and peel him away from the window?”

Throk was hardly able to contain his amusement. “I barely know him, but I’d know that look anywhere, it’s the same face I make when I’m daydreaming. Of battle, hunts, glory, adventure… and a crew who values me for more than just a tool.”

“What do you think he’s daydreaming about?” Hanatah muttered through a mouthful of crumbs, shoveling another biscuit in his mouth. 

“The storm, maybe?” Throk whispered. “I think he’ll come around soon, not like there’s a rush or anything.”

***

Annetto was in a state deep reflection as he finished the last of the stitching in his lap, of the last time he was here in Orgrimmar to witness a storm this large and had met an orc so true of heart. 

He had been born a Grimtotem, despite having been exiled from the line proper. The young tauren had spent much of his life trying to shake such a sullied surname and the connentations it held to many of his own people. He had been a few moons shy of performing the rite of the Great Hunt when Magatha Grimtotem had momentarily usurped Thunder Bluff, and it led to the untimely passing of his mother, who died trying to protect him. His father, on the other hand, still very loyal to the Elder Crone, took him away to Stonetalon Mountains when the remaining loyalists were banished by Baine. 

Deep in the mountains was where he would begin to feel the first stirrings of the elements and ancestors speaking to him. He could feel the spirits of many who had perished at the hands of those he was supposed to be loyal to, but found himself in equal grief and anguish with them as he questioned himself for staying at his father’s side, despite not being given much choice in the matter. Once a bull fully covered in onyx fur like a true shadow of his father, he was soon developing patches of white, and began to grow weak from the strain of having one hoof in the veil and the other hoof straining to control the will of the elements, as the Grimtotem’s teachings were of dark and destructive warpings of what it meant to channel the energies they provided. As soon as he was of age and started to question the actions of the Elder Crone, he found himself exiled from the Grimtotems, too. Stripped of his title and exiled to wander the land without any of his own people. He set off on a journey away from the Stonetalon Mountains, as far as his hooves would carry him, as a storm not unlike this one was making landfall. This was where he’d have his first encounter with shamans outside the ones he’d trained with in the mountains and the few he’d known when he was a young calf. 

It was not long after the goblins had joined the Horde when this had happened, and some of those who were establishing businesses and trade in the city were beginning to settle into what would eventually become The Drag when the storm had hit, meaning there was a bunch of extra people in the city living in tents and lean-to’s as construction was still underway. As the winds began to pick up, murmurs arose between the throngs of people seeking refuge in the Pathfinder’s Den, which was used at the time as a mass shelter for those without a solid structure, that they were in dire need of extra healers to deal with the “accidents” occurring from having creatures of all sizes piled in so closely.

He was deeply focused on the sensation of the rain hitting his pelt as he stood watching the gates of the city from afar, observing the masses as they began to slowly funnel their way into the foreboding gate. Having walked for days on end in little more than the tattered clothing bearing the mud covered crest of his former clan, he was happy to stop and let the rain soothe his ache. It was one of the few things he felt come somewhat naturally to him when it came to his shaministic powers, the way the water could be drawn on to heal and mend. So far his training had been rigorous, volatile and deadly, one of commanding and controlling the elements to bend to his will, instead of communing with them as he was doing now, drawing on the rain’s spirit to help him enough to carry his hooves to shelter. As the watery glow of a riptide spell washed over his tense muscles, he felt his knees give way and collapse from beneath him, landing firmly on his ass in the mud.

“Could be worse… I can at least see the gate…” He thought to himself. “No more spells for a while though, that hurt more than it helped…”

“Tauren, are you a shaman?” A voice bellowed behind him.

Annetto whipped his head around to face the sound, and before him was an orc shaman of legend, dismounting from a massive frost wolf. One he’d heard many things about in his short life, and one who inspired a great deal of courage for all in the Horde: Thrall. 

It wasn’t crazy to think that he still cared deeply about the Horde he was once Warchief of, but with his new position with The Earthen Ring after the Shattering, it struck him as odd that he of all people was out riding around, looking for stragglers outside the city gates. That someone as high of title and strong as him was out searching for those to help, it was honorable and noble, something that took the young tauren aback when all he’d seen the Grimtotems use power for was conquest and control. 

“I… don’t really know to be quite honest.” Annetto muttered as he tried to pick himself up out of the mud. “I wouldn’t call myself a shaman. I’ve been led astray and used force to try and command the elements, and now I can barely feel them at all…”

“From where do you hail, young one?” The elder orc asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

Annetto felt a pit of despair within him the moment his eyes met the former Warchief’s gaze as he knelt before him. He felt that the mere mention of being a Grimtotem would earn him a one way ticket back to the same group who exiled him just a few days prior as soon as it was safe to have braves escort him, and felt a lie might be treating him to an execution via Doomhammer, not to mention how vile it felt to even consider lying to someone he thought so highly of. He could only hope that the rumors about the orc’s forgiveness were true, as he tried to find his voice to speak.

“Stonetalon.” He said with regret welling in his voice. “I have been exiled by Baine, the remaining Grimtotems, and now I fear the elements will as well. I was young, stripped of my rites of passage and choice, and was trained in ways that have left me feeling broken and empty. I seek atonement for my transgressions against the elements and my people, my only wish is to try and heal the damage my bloodline has caused. ”

“If you truly wish to heal, we’re in need of everyone we can find. Even a shaman in training could be of use once you’re given aid and instruction.” Thrall said with compassion. “I’m sure Baine could find it in him to pardon you, should you prove yourself an ally to the Horde in its hour of need.”

The orc reached out and offered his hand to the tauren, who found himself feeling humbled that the elder shaman would consider him worthy of such a task despite him failing to even heal himself just moments before. Thrall saw potential in him and wanted him to try again and learn, versus chastising him for failing to meet expectations as he’d had done to him so many times before. In that moment, when he grabbed hold of the old Warchief’s hand and stood up, Annetto was finally sure of one thing: he had an opportunity to make things right and to start the mending, and he was ready to follow in the footsteps of a TRUE orc to do just that. 

***

By the time he’d finally gathered his head and focused in on his surroundings, the lights in the room had dimmed to nothing but red hot cinders in the hearth and a lone candle in the window near his fixed oilskin raincoat. The two warriors were both sloshed and snoring in separate beds, having played several rather intense rounds of Hearthstone and gone through most of the cask that had been provided with their rations. Annetto hadn’t been too bothered by this, seeing as he had his own stash of whisky and herbs tucked away in a pouch he’d dip into soon, but he had found it quite charming how fond Hanatah was of his friend, and it was clear that there was a lot of chemistry between them. It had taken Annetto almost no time at all to figure out why his warrior friend was so hooves over horns for this hard-working orc. It was that look of kindness in his eyes, of someone who cares deeply for all life, and that no one creature, race, or person is better than another. It was the same look Thrall had given him in the storm, compassion and understanding that transcends through life itself.

_“Honor and strength in all aspects of life.” Annetto thought to himself. “Even when we think no one’s watching. Throk, you have the makings of a true orc indeed...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to up the immersion factor while reading this chapter, I encourage you to whip up the Cornmeal Biscuits and Steaming Chicken Soup from the _World of Warcraft: The Official Cookbook_ By Chelsea Monroe-Cassel. My partner and I have the shortened Lootcrate one but I want to get the full book at some point, I've been cooking out of it just for fun with all the Shadowlands hype in my house right now and there's some really fun stuff in there. 
> 
> I promised myself I would save most of Annetto's story for after Orctober, so stick a pin in this topic and I'll come back to it, as I would LOVE to expand on this but it's not for today. There will come a day where I fully write out this scene from a non-flashback point of view as it's own thing. 
> 
> Also, just gonna come out and say it, I did make a reasonable amount of effort to make this potentially canon to the game besides writing the inn more how I would for say, a DnD campaign, but you could honestly take it or leave it as being that way or not. This was absolutely just for fun but if we were to say it is, it would most likely take place somewhere very end of Cata or early Mists? With the flashback specifically happening during that brief second in Cata after the Goblins are joining the Horde where Thrall comes back to tell Vol’jin “Ah, shit’s ok and Garrosh is gonna do just fine” (Spoilers, we know what happened) I think the biggest creative liberties taken was the actual interaction between Thrall and Annetto and the whole plot with the Ring. Because they're faction neutral, I head-canon that both The Earthen Ring and The Centurion Circle are heads of natural disaster relief (both regular and cataclysmic varieties) on Azeroth and send their heroes to help get hunting and search parties together and just be there to help prepare and aid during these events. The idea that Thrall (especially as part of the ring at this point in lore) would absolutely be out there doing his part if he was around in the city at the time just… made sense to me and worked with the theme of the story? I really don’t feel that’s too far out of character? It also kinda gives Annetto more of a reason to be there doing work for the Ring and it was just me trying to tie up a loose end plot point while also writing about the truest orc I could think of. (also trying to line up the timelines for those events, and I THINK I got it like, mostly correct? Someone will ridicule me in the comments for something I did, I’m sure, but hey, I tried and I get to dictate what happens in my fic to-fucking-day thank you very much.)


	3. You Captured WHAT?

_The winds were brisk and chilly this high up, but he had to admit he really enjoyed the feeling of it as it ruffled his mohawk. The lands of Kalimdor were vast and beautiful as the land flew by beneath him, and he knew deep down that this was the way he was always meant to see it. The beast he rode was a Wind Rider, a noble sort of creature he’d seen constantly on the skyway day in and day out, as flight masters were another popular way of getting around the massive continent. Throk held them in the same regard as many orcs hold wolves, and hoped one day he would perhaps have one of the flying beasts for a loyal companion._

_His dream had him feeling so in tune with the creature, commands through gentle motions in the reigns and soft whispers of encouragement. Throk let the creature soar out over the sea into the clear night, and basked in the sensation of the ocean mist and evening breeze, free to ride for as long as he pleases..._

***

This dream was one Throk had several times a month, and the few times he’d been treated to a lift on one of these wyverns, he spent the entire ride in awe. He could see people wandering the land on their own adventurers, villages and farms dotting the wild, and on one occasion, the stars as they twinkled in the dark, moonless sky. He had always hoped one day to be able to afford the training to get a mount, and be able to soar endlessly where he desired, but for now, the closest he could get to that as a peon was working on the skyway and watching as people took off for lands unknown. 

The sun rising did little in the way of bringing light to the world as the storm continued to rage onward, it was clear it wasn't going to subside anytime soon. This would mean another day inside and another day of conversation and idly passing time. He awoke to hear his tauren companions speaking their native tongue in hushed tones over mugs filled with tea, sitting with their chairs near the window. Hanatah seemed rather agitated, shaking his head and making gestures to his bed, while Annetto just brushed him off, laughing as he took another sip of his drink. Throk looked around and saw no evidence of any extra bedroll, so he assumed the shaman likely spent the whole night exactly where he’d been glued since dinner last night, next to the window observing the storm. 

Annetto didn’t seem as if he had been awake all night, but with how frantic Hanatah was becoming over the shaman’s dismissive gestures, it was clear the warrior was worried about if he was taking care of himself, and it did Throk good to know that he wasn’t the only one who got this treatment considering how he ended up here in the first place. 

“--They should be calling you Hanatah _Worryhoof_ instead!” Annetto said with a joking snort. “If you absolutely insist on doting over me... I’d take a blanket and another cup of tea, maybe a bowl of oatmeal as well, if we’re wanting to start breakfast.”

Hanatah stuck out his tongue in disgust. “Yuck, I forget you eat that stuff! If you want that for breakfast, you’re on your own. I’m having some meat, cheese, and leftover biscuits if we aren’t planning anything else.”

“How about you, Throk?” Annetto said as he locked eyes with the staring orc. “Hungry for something?”

Throk yawned and stretched as he pulled himself from the plush bedding, a tinge of regret for having to finally get up on his first day off in ages, but the rumble of his stomach was starting to rival the outside storm. 

“I could eat,” The orc said as he rose to his feet. “Any of that sounds ok, to be honest. I’d even go get something from downstairs for myself if you don’t have the rations to spare. It’s bad enough I’ve taken your bed with how hospitable you’ve been.”

“Funny you should say, Hanatah and I were just talking about that.” Said Annetto. “The Ring says the storm will likely cause quite a dent in the food stores of the city. I have been sent to gather a group of capable warriors and hunters who are willing to do some tracking in the tail ends of the storm to help bring back food before things get too dire, as well as provide aid to those in need should we come across them. We won’t leave until after it peaks around this time tomorrow, the eye of the storm made landfall this morning, and should pass over us tonight.” 

“Throk, I know it might be a big ask since it’s not our usual gig, and it’s gonna take us outside the city,” Hanatah chimed in. “Still, I was hoping you’d be willing to join us?”

Throk looked overjoyed by the news for a few moments, before he found himself hesitate to speak the words he desperately wanted to cry out. He had his big break, the chance to be a hero, the only thing he wanted more than a Wind Rider, dangling right before him only a few words away… and yet he felt a pain in his toes at the very thought of the thing stopping him.

“If things clear up enough that the captain calls the crews in while I’m out with you guys, I’m sure to get demoted to something awful if I’m missing.” Throk groned in disdain.

Annetto saw the doubt and worry brewing in the young orc’s eyes. “I can’t ask that you pitch in on a room or food I didn’t pay for since it was taken care of by my order, nor will I guilt you into it if you worry it will conflict with your honor or duties, but I promise to both pardon and pay you extra for any time spent that cuts into you returning to work should you join us.”

“I mean, that all sounds too good to be true, what’s the catch?” Throk questioned.

Annetto was about to answer when a knock came from the door to the hall. 

“Ah, yes. A catch. There will hopefully be many on our hunt.” The shaman jested.

This sudden change from serious to silly caught Throk off guard, especially when Annetto began to laugh at his bewilderment, but what stunned him more was the sudden addition of more people to the room as Hanatah went to answer the knock. Two more orcs joined the crowded inn room: a tall, stocky, teal skinned hunter with several thick braids of plum hair draping from his head and armor made of expertly tanned hides, and his companion, a lithe and fierce huntress wielding a mighty bow, her smoky hair tied in a high ponytail and silver rings adorning her tusks. 

“Lok’tar friends, my name is Nakgu, and this is my mate, Gorza.” The hunter said as he proudly gestured to the huntress, who bowed her head gracefully. “We’re told you’re in need of hunters who will help trap in foul weather, my mate and I will do our best to be of service to you and the city.”

“Surely you wouldn't mind joining us for a meal while we have our discussion about plans for tomorrow?” Annetto asked his orcish companions. “We were just deciding what to eat and would be happy to have you with us, plenty to spare for those willing to help.”

***

Annetto took over the prep of breakfast as he spoke in detail about the plan. The five of them were to head for Thunder Ridge, south along the edge the Southfury watershed, a quick stop in Razor Hill to drop off the kills and their hunter companions, who would skin and prepare the meat for the city, and allow them to return back to Orgrimmar, cutting the route short and reporting straight back to the capital if they hit those in need of more than quick aid. It would not be easy to catch anything in conditions like this even for a skilled hunter, so it was expected that Hanatah and Throk were mostly there to help carry kills and aid in protecting the party should things go wrong, while Nakgu and Gorza would handle the bulk of the hunting, but they were still both eager nonetheless to be part of something beyond a day of mundane guard work, and working with each other was far better than any day spent at work alone. 

“...but enough about business, let’s break the ice a little.” Annetto said as he set the last of the breakfast on the table. “Gorza was telling me you had an encounter in the jungle that led to an interesting find, Nakgu. Mind regaling us with the tale?”

“So there I was, few weeks ago in the Un’Goro Crater, prowling through the jungle with my wolf, Femur, hunting myself a little devilsaur hide for my lady’s new quiver when the mutt came reeling outta the woods with a set of torn up reigns in his mouth.” The burly hunter spoke, tension rising within his voice. “And I’m thinking to myself someone nearby probably had a run in with the very bastard I’m looking to skin, so I decided to follow the wolf back into the bushes where he’d been sniffing around. I get to the clearing and see a whole mess of adventurers who’d met an untimely end at the hands of a pack of those vicious critters. Pair of young trolls and a goblin man torn limb from limb, far too late for a healer to do ‘em any good. Would have turned back then and there had it not been for the only thing still alive in the clearing.”

“What was it? Some kind of pet raptor?” Throk asked.

“Nah… Was a damn Wind Rider of all things, and a rather fancy one too.” Nakgu said. “The poor thing had several tears in the membrane of its wings, and it looked as if it hadn’t been well cared for, but didn’t look particularly injured save for the clear signs of neglect.”

“You just FOUND it out there?!” Throk exclaimed.

“The poor thing!” Hanatah added. “You saved it though, right?” 

“She put up quite the fight coming back, but the beast cleaned up well.” Gorza replied. “Right now she’s at the stables with a few of our other pets weathering the storm. Real gorgeous gal with ocean mane a mossy pelt and. I asked around to several stables to see if anyone was looking for their stolen mount, but came up empty after nearly a full month of trying, so we’ve been rehabilitating her at our place near Razor Hill.” 

“That’s crazy, do you think it might have belonged to the ones you found dead or something?” Hanatah asked, concern heavy in his sympathetic wimpers that followed.

“Perhaps it’s likely, but I don’t feel sympathy for those willing to take advantage of such a noble and just creature. It didn’t sit right with me to just leave her out there, so I took a piece of my bait and started trying to get her to a place that wouldn’t be so apt to drawing in scavengers.” Nakgu grumbled. “Gave me a real nasty bite on the arm when I was trying to pull the dug in rope off her paws. Had to put off devilsaur hunting for a few more days, but that new quiver’s a real beauty...”

***

_“What an incredible find… I wonder if I’ll meet any of their pets tomorrow?” Throk thought to himself as he laid back on the bed he slept in last night, trying to encourage himself to sleep despite his excitement for the day that would come tomorrow. The winds and rain had given a small bit of retreat but not fully stopping, and he figured this was what Annetto meant by the eye of the storm passing over._

_Nakgu and Gorza stayed for a large portion of the day, with Nakgu telling glorious stories of their many hunts together as mates, and his wife singing Lok'vadnod about the legendary orcs of the clans they hailed from. They had shared many moons together and hoped one day they’d be having children of their own to tell these stories and songs to._

_“...And hopefully it’ll be someday soon! I know our neighbours are sick of hearing us try--” He could hear Nakgu’s voice replay in his head, followed up by the mental image of Gorza swiftly yanking one of the orc hunter’s many braids to stop him from speaking any further, and the howling laughter that erupted from Annetto after. It was nice to spend time in a casual manner with them all before going off into the storm tomorrow, and he felt the tension ease about his worries for the hunt tomorrow, even though his thoughts about work still briefly nagged in the back of his brain._

_Annetto was downstairs, he presumed. The shaman had left with the orc couple, and said something about ‘a few more details to hash out,’ whatever that meant. With him gone, it just left Hanatah with him, and the tauren was sitting up in the other bed next to his own, down to just his bedtime linens to stay modest. He was rebraiding his beard, staring into a small hand mirror as he did so._

_Throk had never seen Hanatah without his armor before last night, and was far too drunk and involved in other things to really care about it then, but the soft, kindhearted warrior was as exposed as he could be in the moment, save for a few loose covers. He’d certainly wondered if something like this might happen when he first accepted the offer to stay, and it brought that same flush back to his face._

_“I wonder what he thinks of me? What he’s told Annetto?” The orc thought to himself as he felt his face smolder. “And how on AZEROTH the two of them know each other so well? I’ve never heard him mention any friends besides a few warriors we both know, but he just knows a shaman in the Ring? Is he doing more than just work for him? Could they be…”_

_The talk of mates and passion earlier hadn’t helped, it only fueled the fire that burned inside his mind. He felt there was no way he could put off knowing how his friend really felt about him any longer, but every time he’d felt this way something would stop him, keep him busy. This time, it was just them and the small gap between their beds, but his racing heart made it feel like it could have been the whole of Kalimdor separating the two beds._

“Hey Throk.” Hanatah said as he reached out and touched the orc’s shoulder. “What’s got your ears smoking, buddy? Something on your mind?”

“Hanatah, do you ever think about looking for a mate?” The orc asked bluntly, placing his hand over the tauren’s. He didn’t really know where he was going to take this, and he hoped Hanatah might just answer all his questions without having to ask them. His tauren friend could read him like a book. The bull met his gaze with a smile, he knew exactly what his orc friend wanted to know.

“Me and Annetto have absolutely done things behind closed doors, if that’s what you meant. We’re friends though, not lovers. He’s not really the commitment type, besides his calling to the elements.” Hanatah remarked. “I’m more into someone who’s always willing to fight side by side with me in the heat of battle, explore all the beauty the Earthmother has to offer and live freely under her skies as loyal and loving companions. To be together through thick and thin, and... to hold close even in the worst of weather.”

The two of them stared longingly at one another for several moments, before Throk finally managed to catch his breath. 

“... Could we maybe try that last part together,” He found himself asking, voice barely able to utter his thoughts. “Just to see where it goes?”

Without any further hesitation, the tauren pulled him into his arms, embracing him tightly. “You know, even though this is a hunting mission... your heart what I was really hoping to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lok'vadnod_ = Traditional orcish song sung about the life of a hero
> 
> Look, I'm happy to write the missing NSFW chapter should it get requested by enough folks, but I already spent way more time and effort on this than I first planned to and honestly I wanted to leave it up to the reader to imagine what happens between Hanatah and Throk this time. It didn't need to be sexual to be intimate and nice to write because there's a lot about them that's similar to my real life relationship with my partner. We're both just average people working hard to achieve something for ourselves, but when we started hanging out and getting close, we were so damn dense about our love for each other that it took other people in our lives to start pointing it out to actually consider testing the waters in that way, but I would probably not be writing this if it weren't for him getting me into WoW, so thanks for being my inspiration, babe!

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my super self indulgent fanfic for Orctober. I was originally shooting to keep this between 2-5k words in **TOTAL** but I kinda just said screw it and went overboard, hence why it’s late and having the last two chapters released when finished (chapter 4 is in editing and will probably be up by 10/9, chapter 5, the final chapter for this particular story but not for Orctober, is drafted and will follow a few days after Ch 4. It's probably gonna hit 10k words by the time it's done...) Throk was a character who started as a sketch to fill out Annetto’s world (Because as of the time of writing this, only him and Hanatah existed before I fleshed this out, with Annetto being the VERY FIRST WoW character I made that is now lost to the void forever due to it being on my partner’s account on a realm I’ll probably never pop in on again, and is now basically fursona status along with my actual fursona whoops.) and Hanatah, my WoW Classic Warrior I’m currently leveling as of a few weeks ago and didn’t really have any story before this either. I’m a super causal player but I’ve done quite a bit of lore reading and really enjoy it as something I do with my partner, but I’m totally a noob and scared to do dungeons so catch me sitting around and grinding professions like a madman, wandering aimlessly looking for artistic inspiration. I don't know if I'll ever make this much content in the span of a week again, but I do intend to at least keep writing and posting. 
> 
> If you like what you read, take a moment to drop a kudos or comment, that will totally encourage me to keep writing more and if you're curious about what else I do, follow me on Twitter @ArchdruidAD if you're 18+, since I don't post my WoW content on my SFW main right now. (Content warning for that account though: it's mostly chaotic horny shitposting and lewd reblogs.) If you like fursuits though, I build them from time to time, and that's what makes up the majority of my SFW blog along with my art. You'll find that under @islandhedgehog but with a lack of cons and not being in the best of health at the moment, it's been quiet so I might start posting WoW stuff that's SFW like this there too.
> 
> As far as a rating and tags on this, I reread the content of this SEVERAL times in editing while trying to debate if this was a Teen or Mature piece? I don't feel like this is worth a mature rating, I think I totally stay within the realm of possibility of the spirit of the game itself and since the game has a Teen rating with ESRB I'm gonna roll with that until proven otherwise since I kept this SUPER tame compared to what I could have done and may do for other prompts/later works, who knows. If anyone has more tags that would be helpful to add I would love some more help with how tagging works! I think I did ok, but would welcome advice.


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